Mrs Irene Hatechildren
by Wisteria22
Summary: A oneshot from the universe of King Kai's Test. Read King Kai's Test first, otherwise this won't make any sense. Enjoy!


A/N: Ok, I was brainstorming ideas for **King Kai's Test: the Sequel** when I got…..sidetracked. This is a one-shot from the universe of **King Kai's Test**. If you don't get who she is, then go read **King Kai's Test**.

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ, but I do own something! *readers gasp* I know, even I'm shocked! I, Wisteria22, claim ownership to Mrs. Irene Hatechildren and her husband, boyfriend, and colleagues. *readers faint at the idea that Wisteria22 owns something* *Wisteria22 pokes a reader with her foot* Medic!

**MRS. IRENE HATECHILDREN AKA MRS. I REALLY HATE CHILDREN**

Mrs. Irene Hatechildren was daydreaming about her favorite place in the world. Most would think the fact that she _had_ a favorite place would be the shocker, but if you knew her as well as Anna Ying and Demi O'Chibi then you would know what had put the students in a state of shock.

Mrs. Irene Hatechildren could dream.

The children had never thought that someone as vicious, mean, spiteful, rude, and ignorant as Mrs. Irene Hatechildren could dream. Surely, one of the Kais or Kamis up there would prevent this…..freak accident of nature. Alas, Dende was Kami in this time and he LOVED these kinds of things. Those poor, poor children. Exposed to the evil ways of Dende, they will be forever scarred…..until they see Coraline on DVD. They'll be too busy running from the other mother to care….

Anyways, Mrs. Irene Hatechildren was daydreaming about the staff lounge. She hadn't been the same since her man servant in training, Chaotzu, transferred to Mrs. Sunshine's class in Lollipop Elementary. She threw not only desks and students; but classrooms! Only Kami knew how she had done that….

….and Piccolo absorbed him, so you won't be finding out!

The under stuffed couches, the voodoo dolls of troublemakers, the half empty coffee pots, and the worn and well thumbed copies of _Teaching for Dummies _made it a teachers paradise. What better place to relax after yelling and potentially scarring your students to life then the teacher's lounge? That happened to be the Monday's warm up assignment so Mrs. Irene Hatechildren won't be telling you the answer.

Because if you didn't do your homework then you better run; Mrs. Hatechildren has a gun. And Chaotzu can tell you that those bullets aren't rubber…..

Mrs. Irene Hatechildren tried to be optimistic; key word _tried_. But today would be different, today would be better; today her endless torture of teaching children would lessen. Why you may ask? Simple, the kids were doing their oral reports today. All Mrs. Irene Hatechildren had to do was give her victims an unnerving stare and write 'F' on their paper, if she was feeling nice she might write 'F+'. But Mrs. Irene Hatechildren was never feeling nice….

Those poor, poor children; may Yemma have mercy on their souls.

Mrs. Irene Hatechildren picked up her clipboard of doom and her grading pen of injustice that Mr. Despiseyoungsters had given her for Christmas. Apparently, they came in several different colors: black, red, green, pink, and purple. She had given Mr. Dislikekids one for his birthday; it was green, as if that mattered….

"Anna Ying, you're up," Mrs. Irene Hatechildren called out, dooming poor little Anna Ying to her fate.

"My report is on Mr. Satan," Anna Ying announced.

"F!" Mrs. Hatechildren called out.

Anna Ying protested "But-"

"Butts are for sitting on, now go sit on yours!" Mrs. Hatechildren chucked a rock solid Chibi Gohan doll at Anna, "OR ELSE!"

Anna Ying quietly walked over to her seat, that she lovingly called The Cage. It was gray, had a rusting old tin can, slash marks on the ground, and ki proof silver bars. As soon as Anna crawled inside, the chain attached to her cage retracted, hanging her from the ceiling. Anna Ying pulled out her harmonica and began to play while Stew Pid threw spit wads at her.

"Cray Zee, your report," Mrs. Irene Hatechildren said.

An old, frayed rope was thrown into a large hole in the floor by Mrs. Hatechildren's desk. Out of the darkness climbed the pale, thin form of Cray Zee. He was starved from serving several lunch detentions with Mrs. Hatechildren; he was covered in feathers when Mrs. Hatechildren decided to demonstrate tarring and feathering. Of course, she used syrup instead of tar; she didn't want to get sued….again. She couldn't afford beer for a month, after the lawyers collected their fees.

"My report is on Vegeta Briefs, one of the deadliest men in the world," Cray Zee whispered, his knee's trembling from the effort needed to speak.

Mrs. Irene Hatechildren was not happy; she hated being reminded that someone could scare children better than she could. She had worked long and hard to get that level of fear from her students, guaranteeing them to be scarred emotionally for life. Just like Scipio of Rome learned from Hannibal of Carthage, Mrs. Hatechildren of…..school was learning from Vegeta Briefs of…capsule corp.

"F," Mrs. Hatechildren started but then Vegeta's face loomed over her in the darkness. Laughing at her inability to strike fear as well as he did, even his son could scare people better then she could. Mrs. Hatechildren considered going back to scare school, and getting a new die-ploma.

Yes, that's what she would do.

"Class dismissed," Mrs. Hatechildren yelled as she hit the big red button marked **RELEASE MONGRELS. **The class cheered and ran out the door as Mrs. Hatechildren picked up her phone and dialed 55-SCARE.

"State your displeasure," A gruff voice on the other line said.

"Ah, yes," Mrs. Hatechildren said, "This is Irene Hatechildren….."


End file.
